


Heaven Waits

by Peanut_McNut



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20, Destiel - Freeform, Fix-It, It's the finale but different and better, M/M, Or well worry less I guess, Series Finale, The major character death(s) are the same as the canon finale so don't worry, at least imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peanut_McNut/pseuds/Peanut_McNut
Summary: When given the chance at true free will, is it really a choice between peace or freedom?Author’s Note: So, full disclosure, this is not the finale or ending I would write. This isn't about what I would want. After watching the finale, I set a challenge for myself:1. To use most, if not all, of the plot elements from the finale they gave us in some way, shape or form in (hopefully) a more satisfying way.2. To write something that would give enough material to adapt a script that could easily be shot during a pandemic with minimal cast. To that end, if I added characters that needed to be physically be present for shooting, I had to get rid of others.3. It had to be finished and posted within one week of the finale's airing in the US (November 19, 2020), regardless of whether I was 100% happy with it or not.Basically, I wanted to see if this chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a better ending than we, and the characters, got.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Heaven Waits

When Dean thought about what a life free from Chuck’s puppet strings might be like, there was no definition to the idea. It was nebulous. An endgame part of him never thought they could truly achieve and not because he didn’t believe in him and Sam or Jack or Cas. The thought of it had felt like a height of hubris even Dean Winchester inherently shied away from. 

But, against all odds, they had made it. They came out the other side, completely free and mostly intact. Dean would be lying if he said it hadn’t hurt when Jack left. He was happy for him. The kid seemed at peace and well suited for his new gig. He wasn’t alone. Amara was with him. Still, the bunker felt a little less like home when Sam and Dean returned without him, despite the addition of Miracle. And while most of the bunker felt a little less whole, the hallway leading to the dungeon felt like a black void. The atmosphere around it felt heavy with absence. Dean avoided it at all costs.

At first, Dean and Sam stayed in. Maybe it was a need for rest and healing. Maybe it was the sense of uncertainty as to what they should do next. Phone calls were made to check in with everyone. With each answered call, Dean’s chest felt a little less tight. Jody and the girls were back and fine. Jody had a thousand questions for them, mostly some variation on whether they were all right and multiple promises they would be out to her house for dinner before the week was out. Charlie was back and so was Stevie. Bobby confirmed the other hunters from Apocalypse World had returned. Everything, it seemed, had reset. 

Sam threw his cell phone down on the table in frustration as Dean ended his call with Bobby. He watches Sam drag a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Still nothing?”

Sam shakes his head, eyes not meeting Dean’s. The shine to them is enough to tell Dean not to push further. 

Sam sniffs, flipping through his book of contacts open between them as he pulled it closer, “Who else do we need to check on?”

Dean opens his mouth to tell Sam he’s being an idiot and they should get in the Impala to go do some serious searching when Sam’s phone buzzes. A message from an unknown number pops up o the screen. Sam opens his phone, brows furrowed as he reads.

“What is it?”

Sam doesn’t answer, just stares at the screen.

“Sam?” Dean says, a little louder than necessary causing Sam to jump.

Wide-eyed, Sam looks up at Dean, “It’s Eileen.”

“What?’

“I mean, I think —“

The phone buzzes again in Sam hands, the shock dissipating into something close to alarm.

“It’s definitely Eileen.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?”

Sam blanches, “Uh, I’m… I —.”

“I don’t know much about relationships,” Dean says, unable to help the smirk, “but I’m pretty sure you should have been on the road five minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” Sam says as he jumps up, his knees banging on the table as the chair he’d been sitting in almost toppled over. “I’ll just… Are you —?”

“I’m fine. Get the hell out of here, Sammy.”

Sam’s fingers fly across the screen of his phone as he walks towards the garage.

“You forgetting something?”

Sam looks back at him, eyes still wide. Dean sighs as he stands and moves towards one of the drawers behind him, pulling a set of keys from amongst the others. He tosses the keys to Sam who almost fumbles them.

“Eileen’s car is in the garage. Giving her the car you stole back might be a good start.”

Sam glares at his brother, “I didn’t steal it!”

“I’m not the one you have to convince.” Dean says with a laugh as Sam frowns at him, “Flowers might not be a bad idea either.”

Sam rolls his eyes at him as he pockets his phone and headed towards the garage, “You’re such a jerk.”

“Whatever, bitch, give Eileen my love.”

Sam pauses long enough to give Dean a genuine smile before disappearing down the hall. 

“So, just you and me, huh?” Dean says as he sits back down at the table, scratching Miracle behind the ears. The dog looks at him, panting as he leans into the touch. 

***

The next two years fly by in a blur of routine and hunts. The bunker becomes a hunter central of sorts. Dean watches as Sam fully takes on the roll of leader with the full support of Dean, building on the network of hunters he’d started before Chuck. The Network grows until it covers the whole country. When Sam and Dean aren’t hunting, they man the phones, dispatch hunters where they are needed, and assist with research. 

“How’s the house coming?” Dean asks as he flips through yet another book on ancient curses for a case two hunters were working in Arkansas.

Sam sighs, “It’s getting there. Another month and it should be done.”

“Warding still good?”

Sam nods, “Whatever extra boost the bunker throws off has more than enough coverage. Between that and what we built into the foundation, I think we’re good.”

Sam and Eileen had decided to build less than a mile away from the bunker. It gave them their own space while keeping Sam close enough to work. 

“Still not sure what you did to convince Eileen to keep you around,” Dean says with a smile.

“Trust me, neither am I.”

Sam had been so ridiculously happy the last couple months. Watching him build a life with Eileen has been one of the most satisfying things in Dean’s life. They had talked about Sam getting out of the game after Chuck. Well, Dean had asked and Sam had struck it down almost before Dean got the question out. Sam had told Dean before he wasn’t the same guy who wanted the Norman Rockwell version of an apple pie life. It wasn’t him anymore and it wasn’t Eileen’s either. It was the first time Dean had truly believed him and, so long as it was Sam’s choice, he was good with that. 

“It’s good to see you so happy.” Dean says, cutting Sam off when he tries to interrupt, “No, I mean it. I never thought someone could do both, the hunting thing and the kind of normal life thing. But you and Eileen, you’ve pulled it off.”

Sam starts fidgeting, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes dance around, landing anywhere but Dean. 

“I know. It’s more than I could have asked for. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Well, it is.” Dean says, taking a swig of his beer, “Not sure it gets better than what you’ve got, man.”

And there again, the nervous fidgeting. Dean eyes Sam for a second before sitting his beer back down, crossing his arms, and leaning towards him.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You’re all,” Dean says, gesturing at Sam before shrugging, “I don’t know, acting weird. Dude, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Eileen’s pregnant.” Sam says, the words exploding out of him in a rush of air. 

“She’s…?”

“Pregnant, yeah.” Sam says, a smile breaking across his face a revelation. 

He’s so happy for Sam, it feels like it’s too much to hold inside. Dean doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with the first thing that comes to mind.

“Man, I really thought Eileen had better taste.”

Sam chucks a pen at him, laughing. Dean gets up, moving to the other side of the table to drag his little brother up into a hug. Sam grips him tight, letting out a huff of a laugh that sounds a little wet. Dean sniffs, holding the tears back as he pats his brother’s back.

“I’m so proud of you, Sammy.”

Dean lets him go and yeah, there are tears in Sam’s eyes. The watery smile he gives him is almost enough to send Dean over the edge, but he holds on. Sam wipes at his eyes, shaking his head.

“I just wish you could find something like this, Dean. You deserve a life too.”

Dean looks away from Sam. He lets his arms drop from his brother’s shoulders, taking a step back. Sam reaches back out for him, but stops. Sam doesn’t press Dean. He doesn’t badger him to tell him what’s wrong. Dean is grateful for that, but knows he has to push through this. For once, he has to be the one to reach back out.

“I have —did.” Dean says quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Dean sighs, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Sam takes a seat next to him, waiting for Dean to continue. Dean folds his hands together, resting his elbows on his thighs, refusing to look up at Sam, but still leaning towards him like being just that little bit closer to his brother will be enough to get him through this.

“When I got back after everyone disappeared… I told you and Jack Cas had saved me. That he was gone. I didn’t — I didn’t tell you the whole story.”

“Okay.”

“Cas, he’d — He made a deal with the Empty. To save Jack’s life.” Dean says, looking up at Sam, “The deal was, the Empty would take him when he experienced a moment of true happiness.”

“Wasn’t Billie trying to kill you guys?”

“Well, Cas always was a dumb son of a bitch,” Dean says with a bitter huff of a laugh.

“Dean —“

“Cas said somethings. To me.” Dean says, taking a deep breath, “Turns out, I was his happy thought.”

“What?”

“He said, he’d made the deal knowing the one thing that could make him happy was something…” Dean pauses, wiping a hand down his face as he clears his throat before continuing, “Something he never could have. He — He said he’d figured it wasn’t about having it, it was about just being. His happiness was just saying the words.”

Dean doesn’t say what else Castiel had said. That Dean wasn’t a broken thing. That he wasn’t daddy’s little solider. All the terrible things Dean had always deep down known was true for so many years. He doesn’t tell Sam Castiel erased all of that in those few minutes when he told him it wan Dean who had taught the angel to care about people. About the whole world. All because he cared for Dean. That Dean was greater than whatever damage had been dealt to him. That what he did, every action he’d taken his whole life, came from love. He doesn’t repeat those words to Sam. The words that were both a balm and a burden Dean kept safely harbored deep in his soul. One of Castiel’s last gifts to him. One Dean has tried to be worthy of ever since.

“Cas told me he loved me.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Dean can feel the tears stinging at his eyes as he stares at his hands, unable to look at Sam.

“He said it, then he was gone. And, I couldn’t — I never said anything back. I was so sure we were going to die, and it would be all my fault. Again. And he said so much, Sammy… So much.” The tears start to fall as his shoulders shake, “And I just stood there. All I could get out was his name and then he was pushing me out of the way as the Empty took Billie. T-took Cas and I —“

Dean loses it. The tears come freely and Sam is holding him. Strong arms holding him when he feels like he could completely fly apart, his whole being shattering in a thousand pieces. Sam keeps him together, a gravity he can allow himself to be drawn to. 

When Dean is more stable, Sam pulls away, keeping his hands on Dean’s shoulders as he makes him look at him, “We can look for him. Find a way to get him out of the Empty. We —“

“I’ve tried.”

“Dean —“

“I’ve prayed. Ever sine it happened… To Cas. To Jack. I’ve looked through every piece of research in this bunker and I haven’t found anything about breaking into the Empty.”

“If he’s even still there.” Sam says, “Jack brought everyone back. I mean, I know he says he was going to be hands off, but he wouldn’t have left Cas.”

“Then why hasn’t he come back?” 

Sam doesn’t have an answer for him, but Dean knows why. Castiel has always been there when Dean called. Always. If he could be here, Dean can’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t be. So either Castiel is still stuck in the Empty or it’s his choice not to come back to Earth. Dean hopes it’s the second so he can imagine him still out there somewhere, but that doesn’t make either option any easier to live with.

***

Dean Jonathan Winchester was born in the middle of summer, a thunderstorm raging outside the hospital. Dean can’t process why his little brother and wonderful wife would want to name their kid after him of all people, but the sense of pride and feeling of love he has when he holds his nephew for the first time obliterates any thoughts of being unworthy of it. 

Dean calls him DJ and the name sticks. With the addition of DJ, the extended family gatherings they’d already fallen into kicks into high gear. Thanksgiving is always at Jody’s with the girls and Donna in tow. The kid has more aunts than he knows what to do with. There’s Christmas at Sam and Eileen’s with everyone in attendance, including Bobby, Charlie, and Stevie. There’s parties in between as more people get married or have kids among the hunters that revolve around the nerve center Sam and Dean have created from the bunker. With people constantly in and out, Dean becomes one hell of a cook and a baker. Turns out, with enough time to dedicate to it, he’s not only good at it, but he enjoys it. Taking care of people and the ones he loves enjoying something he makes gives him a sense of accomplishment and happiness he didn’t think he could find. 

The only exception is the 4th of July, when it’s just the Winchesters. Every year finds them at Sam’s house setting off fireworks as the sun goes down. DJ runs across the field shouting and hollering among the colorful blasts overhead and the sparks shimmering back down to Earth, every inch Dean’s memory of Sam doing the same as a kid.

The bunker fills up with memories and photographs as time passes. Dean finds he likes photography and he’s good at it. There’s something about being able to save part of these moments as they pass while still savoring them while they’re here. There are pictures of Sam, Eileen, and DJ as the kid grows. Some are of Dean teaching DJ how to take care of the Impala. Some of DJ and Dean on road trips to the Grand Canyon or a concert for a band Dean doesn’t know well, but the kid loves. There is a picture of Jody smiling next to a burnt turkey and the hamburgers she and Dean quickly made to replace it one holiday. 

A picture sits on one of the shelves of Rowena in a Santa hat bringing bags of gifts for Christmas. Sam and Dean always triple checked them before passing any out. The Queen of Hell is a family friend, but an accidental cursed object ending up in the bunch wasn’t out of the question. There a picture of Sam teaching DJ how to ride a bike and Eileen teaching him how to shoot. Dean’s favorite set is the one where Claire and Alex are painting five-year-old DJ’s face for Halloween next to a second picture of Sam’s look of horror as his son runs at him dressed as a clown.

Dean is happy. He’s living a life he chooses. If he wants to take a trip somewhere on his own or with Sam, he can. If he wants to sit and marathon movies with his nephew, educating the kid in the classics, he can. Once a week he meets some friends in Lebanon he made outside of hunting to play poker. He picks up work as a mechanic at his buddy’s bodyshop, first to help out then later as a part-time job. He has his whole patchwork family as a constant in his life. Sam and Dean still hunt from time to time, but with DJ, they naturally start to shift more into their support roles. Sam is at the bunker most days and Dean covers anything that comes in during the evening or overnight so Sam can go back home to his family. 

But it’s those moments, when the bunker is quiet, Dean feels the loss more acutely. There is always a void. A lack of something next to him wherever he goes. Over the years, Sam hints at Dean possibly looking for someone. For him to try to find the same kind of domestic bliss Sam has found. But it’s Dean’s choice not to. He chooses to leave that space in his life empty not as a punishment or because he doesn’t think he deserves someone. He chooses it because it feels right for him. The void keeps him company, in some weird way. It keeps what he wants most, but can never have, closer to him. 

***

Time passes. DJ is in his first year of college. Sam and Eileen hadn’t kept DJ from hunting, but they hadn’t pushed him towards it either. DJ could handle himself and had been on a few minor hunts, but most of his life had been fairly normal. Despite that, the kid was majoring in Mythology and Folklore. While Sam thought maybe that didn’t mean anything, Dean isn’t so sure. He figures his nephew was prepping to follow the Men of Letters path at the very least, a part of the hunting life Sam and Dean had revived and evolved years prior. Time would tell.

At 61, Dean, and by extension Sam, are mostly sidelined from hunting. If the achey joints and flare ups from old injuries hadn’t been enough to do it, the unfortunate fact that they’d slowed down in the reflex department was hard to ignore. Neither of them are out of shape, but their hair had more than a few gray streaks and the lines on their faces were deeper. Looking in a mirror, the changes over the years were hard to ignore. Still, the random case comes in from time.

Dean is kicked back in his recliner, his beloved big screen TV on and a laptop setup next to him when Sam knocks on his door. He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead barging in with his own laptop in hand.

“Dean, I think I’ve got — What are you doing?”

“It’s called television, Sam.”

“Yeah, but a British baking show?”

“Hey,” Dean says, kicking his footrest down to look back at his brother, “I can’t help it if you don’t appreciate the classics.”

“Ignore him, Sam. He’s still being insufferable because his pie was so good last week.”

“I am the pie master.”

Sam moves around to look at Dean’s laptop to see a video chat open, “Hey Jody, Donna. You’re watching this too?”

Jody shrugs, “It’s our thing.”

“And it’s awesome.” Dean says.

“We try some of the challenges sometimes.”

“You too, Donna?” Sam asks.

Donna shakes her head with a smile, “Oh no, not me. These two are too competitive for my tastes. I get the tough job of playing judge.”

“She’s great at it too.” Dean says.

Jody threw her hands up, “She’s only picked you twice. Out of five.”

“The last two times.” Dean says with a smirk, “Don’t be peanut butter and jealous.”

“Really?” Sam says as Donna and Jody groan at Dean. “Look, I hate to cut this short, but —“

“Don’t worry about it. We were about done anyway.” Donna says, waving her hand.

“Biscuits with cardamom next time?” Jody asks.

Dean nods, “Bring it on.”

They say goodbye before Dean closes his laptop and turns the TV off.

“Biscuits?”

“It’s a cookie, Sam. Try to keep up.”

“All right, what’s cardamom?” 

Dean opens his mouth to respond, hesitating, “It’s a thing you use in baking.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up as he huffs out a laugh, “Specific.”

“Is there a reason you’re interrupting my Netflix and chill time with Jody and Donna?”

“So not the right context for that,” Sam says, shaking his head as he hands his laptop to Dean, “I think we’ve got a case. No other hunters are close enough to respond.”

Dean scrolls through what Sam has pulled up, “Two missing kids?”

“The parents were attacked. The mom is in the hospital. The dad didn’t make it.”

“Says here the locals are chalking it up to a murder/kidnapping.”

Sam directs him to some emails he has open, “The corner report says different.”

“Yikes,” Dean says, eyes widening as he looks through the pictures the local corner had sent Sam, “Dude’s insides look —“

“Liquified, yeah.” Sam says, taking the laptop back.

“We’ve hunted on less. You thinking monster?”

“Maybe.”

“Well,” Dean says, grunting as he gets up from his recliner, “You know me. I’m always up for a road trip.”

***

By the time they arrive in Twin Falls, Idaho, the house had been abandoned by the investigators. The only sign anything was ever off at the ideal two-story home is the caution tape strung around the property. Careful not to disturb the tape as they make their way in through the front door, Dean and Sam roam the house. Sam scans for EMF while Dean looks for where whatever it is may have entered the house. An obvious lack of sulfur rules out demons. 

“No EMF anywhere.” Sam says as he returns to the living room. “Find anything?”

Dean’s back is towards him as he digs deeper into the couch cushions. “No sulfur, but…”

His hand hits something hard at the back. Dean grasps it and pulls it out. He examines it before straightening up, holding the small, black leather bag out for Sam to look at.

“I don’t think this is filled with potpourri.”

***

They arrive at a section of the canyons just outside Twin Falls. More wooded here than other areas, Dean and Sam leave the Impala behind after packing their duffle bags with the necessities. Sam’s deeper dive into the history of the surrounding area turned up their biggest lead. Murdered parents and disappeared kids was a repeating pattern around here. Every 27 years exactly, two boys were taken from a home more isolated from any neighbors and the parents left for dead. Three days after the abduction, the children’s shoes were always returned to their home, left tied and sitting outside the front door. Always in perfect condition. It was something most monsters eating people would not waste time on. It was calculated. Deliberate. Ritualistic. And the two boys currently missing had been gone two days.

“Freaking witches, man.” Dean says, grumbling as he tugs the straps of his bag higher up onto his shoulder.

Sam’s best guess was this ritual spell was either to boost the witches’ powers or provide protection to a fringe coven living within the wilds of the canyon. Dean figures they’re dicks either way and that’s good enough for him.

“Not all magic is bad, Dean.”

“Says you Sam-witch.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “It’s gotten us out of our fair share of close calls.”

“Yeah well, you ever start spewing pea soup everywhere and I’m disowning you.”

“That’s from ‘The Exorcist,’ Dean.”

“Anything coming out of you would have to be some horrible shade of green with that stuff you eat.”

“You mean food with actual nutritional content?” Sam says with a laugh.

“Overrated.”

“You could use a few more greens in your life.”

“And cheat on butter and bacon?” Dean says in mock offense, “Never.”

Sam shakes his head at him, a small smile crossing his lips. Dean looks ahead, holding out a hand to bring Sam to a stop. Through the trees the sunset filters in among the leaves. Up ahead, the flickering glow of what looks like fire brightens the woods around it. They move as quick as they dare, coming upon a clearing. Using the trees and deepening shadows to hide their presence, Dean peers around to get an idea of what they are up against.

The two kids lie on a stone dais, either sleeping or unconscious. Torches line the clearing along the trees, lighting the circle. Three cloaked figures stand around the boys. Dean and Sam set their bags down, quickly removing guns and a couple machetes. Dean motions for Sam to move right along the tree line. His little brother disappears into the shadows as Dean moves left. Dean stops along the edge of the clearing, one of the figures directly in front of him. He can hear chanting, but can’t make out what dialect it’s in. 

He catches Sam’s eye from across the expanse. They nod at each other, pausing a beat longer to check weapons, then spring out at the same time. Both tackle two of the figures dragging them away from the dais. The third stays still, growling out the incantation, appearing oblivious to the chaos erupting around them. Dean clocks the witch he’s fighting in the face. The figure staggers back. They grab at Dean, an elbow catching him in the stomach before a fist connects with his jaw. Dean staggers back, doubling over to hide his movements as he pulls his machete from his jacket. The figure approaches. When they gets within arms’ length, Dean lashes out. He swings upwards, strong and true, the witch’s head rolling off into the line of tries outside the glow of the torches. The body falls to the ground in a heap.

One glance in Sam’s direction and Dean can see he has the situation handled. Dean goes for the last witch standing, getting between them and the dais. He pushes the witch back away from the kids, pulling his gun out. The witch stumbles, face hidden under the hood. The incantation never wavers. Instead, a hand shoots out, slamming Dean against the stones, the wind knocked out of him. 

His eyes water as he shakes his head, trying to get oxygen back into his lungs. Sam is nowhere to be seen. The witch looms above him, a few feet away. Dean looks around. His gun glints in the light from the flames some yards away. He can’t get to it. He feels around for his knife, but comes up empty. Looking up, he realizes the incantation is drawing to a close. The voice grinds out the last words, the tone higher and louder. The witch holds a hand out again towards the kids. Dean forces himself to his feet. As the last words ring out through the clearing, Dean turns, covering the boys with his body as a force blasts over him. Pain shoots through him as a green glow engulfs them. When it disappears, Dean’s knees give out as he collapses back down to the ground. 

“You!” The witch screeches, gnarled fingers reaching out towards Dean as the figure approaches. 

A shot rings out. The witch stands stock still before falling off to the side. Sam checks the body before turning towards Dean.

“What the hell did you shoot them with?” Dean asks, his voice thin and raspy.

“Witch-killing bullets.”

Dean chuckles, face twisting in pain, “We never did come up with a better name for those.”

Sam helps Dean sit up, leaning him against the dais, “We’ll work on it when we get back.”

“Sam…” 

Dean looks up at his brother, covering the hand on his shoulder with his own. Their eyes lock and Dean can tell that Sam knows, but he walks him through it anyway.

“Are the kids all right?”

Sam glances up before nodding, “Yeah, I think so.”

“Good. It felt like a direct hit, but…ya never know.”

Dean takes in a stunted breath, his chest constricting. Sam grabs at his coat. Dean closes his eyes, patting at Sam’s arm to reassure him.

“Dean, we can stop this. If I get back to the Impala. Get back into town. I can find something to counteract this.”

Dean shakes his head, “It’s a spell or a curse, right? The witches are dead and I’m not what it needs to work right. If it doesn’t run its course, it’ll end with me.”

“But —“

“No, Sam.” Dean says, gripping his brother’s jacket sleeve as he starts to pull away, “Please. Don’t leave me here alone.”

Sam stops, settling down in the grass as Dean loosens his grip, “Yeah, ok. I’m here, Dean.”

Dean looks beyond Sam. The last rays of sunlight are disappearing on the horizon, barely visible through the trees. The sky is painted in hues of pinks and purples. Above them it’s already a deepening blue. A star or two twinkles down on them. Dean smiles.

“There are worse places to go.” Dean looks back at his little brother who is shaking his head at him, tears in his eyes, “It’s ok, Sammy. This is my choice.”

“I know.”

“It’s been a good run, hasn’t it?”

Sam smiles slightly as the tears start to fall, “It wasn’t long enough.”

“It never would’ve been.” Dean says, feeling his throat tighten from something other than pain, “I need to say some things to you.”

“You don’t have—“

“Yes, I do.” Dean says, “I’m so p-proud of you, Sam. Everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve built —“

“Everything we’ve built,” Sam says, an edge to his voice. 

“We built.” Dean says with a nod and a smile, “The new Letters. The Hunter’s Network. Your family. You made it all work, man. The job and a life. It’s more than I could have w-wi— wished for you. And I got s-see it all.”

“Dean… I can’t do this alone,” Sam says, a broken sob escaping him.

“Yes, y-you can.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

Dean chuckles, a cough interrupting it as he closes his eyes to steady himself, “You don’t have to. There’s — There’s so many people… It always was you a-and me. Just you and me. But it’s not anymore. We found something bigger…along the way. We found f-family.”

Sam gives him a watery smile as he shakes his head, “But they’re not you.”

“Hey,” Dean says, trying to straighten up as Sam reaches out to help steady him.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be with you… Right here…” Dean says, placing his hand over Sam’s heart, “Everyday. Everyday you’re out there and you’re li— And you’re living and you’re fighting, ‘cause you — you always keep fighting. You hear me?”

Sam places his hand over Dean’s, nodding as he wipes at his face with his other arm. Dean’s focus is going in and out. He keeps his eyes on Sam. The whole world narrowing for him until all he can see is Sam. He tries to take a deep breath and feels some panic when it doesn’t come. He’s not afraid to die. Not really. The Winchesters of all people know something comes after all this. That death isn’t the end. Still, whatever natural fear most humans must feel comes over him like a wave. He grips Sam’s hand tighter. 

“I love you so much,” Dean says, voice a whisper.

Sam pulls him close, encasing Dean in a hug. Dean leans against him, closing his eyes as a tear falls. He wraps an arm around his little brother, the movement lethargic. He twists his fist into the fabric of Sam’s jacket, trying to hold on.

“It’s okay, Sammy.”

***

“Well, at least I made it to Heaven” Dean says as he walks up onto the porch of Harvelle’s Roadhouse. 

He catches a glimpse of himself in one of the windows as he passes. He pauses for a moment. The reflection is one he hasn’t seen in twenty or so years. 

“Yep,” Bobby says as Dean takes a seat next to him.

“What memory is this?”

“It ain’t, ya idjit.”

“Yeah, it is, ‘cause last I heard, you were in Heaven’s lockup.”

Bobby huffs at him, “Was. Now I’m not. That kid of yours, before he went…wherever, he made some changes here. Busted my ass out. And then he… Well, he set some things right. Tore down all the walls. Heaven ain’t just reliving your golden oldies anymore. It’s what it always should have been. Everyone happy. Everyone together.”

“Rufus lives about five miles that way with Aretha.” Bobby says, pointing further up the gravel road leading away from the Roadhouse, “Thought she’d have better taste. And your mom and dad, they got a place over yonder.”

Dean follows the direction where Bobby points next. His eyes linger there a moment with a small smile.

“It ain’t just Heaven, Dean. It’s the Heaven you deserve. And we’ve been waiting for you,” Bobby says, pulling a bottle of beer out of the cooler next to him and handing it to Dean.

Dean twists the cap off, “So, Jack did all that?”

“Well…” Bobby says, with a knowing look at Dean, “Cas helped.”

Dean looks away, his smile growing a little bigger. Something flips in his stomach and he feels a lightness he hasn’t felt in years. Maybe ever.

“It’s a big, new world out there.” Bobby says, interrupting Dean’s thoughts, “You’ll see.”

Dean takes a drink of his beer, looking down at the bottle as he swallows, “Oh, wow. This tastes like the first drink I ever shared with my dad.”

“Quality stuff?”

“No. It’s crap.” 

Dean and Bobby both laugh at that. 

“But it was fantastic.” Dean says, “Just like this. Perfect.”

Bobby must catch the tone in Dean’s voice, “He’ll be along. Time up here, it’s different. You got everything you could ever want or need or…dream. So, I guess the question is, what are you gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean’s thoughts trail back to the feeling he had a few minutes ago. He sets the beer down and when he looks back out at the road stretching ahead of him he also sees the gorgeous, familiar black shine of flawless paint and long sleek lines of metal.

“I think I’ll go for a drive,” Dean says with a grin as he stands and walks away from the Roadhouse.

Bobby chuckles, “Have fun.”

Dean sighs as he steps into the Impala. He runs his fingers lovingly along the leather wrapped steering wheel. 

“Hey Baby.” 

He settles in, keys jangling as he starts the engine. The motor revs as “Carry On Wayward Son” blasts from the speakers.

“Ah! I love this song!” 

Tires kicking up gravel as they find traction with the road, the Impala eats up ground as they speed through the woodlands. Gravel turns to asphalt. Dean takes the corners fast, relishing every second. It’s the closest to flying he’s ever wanted to get. He enjoys the feeling a few minutes longer before deciding on a destination. Bobby had asked him what he was going to do. Right now, right this second, there was only one thing he wanted.

He drives like he knows where he’s going. Truth be told, none of the landscape looks familiar. Dean goes for miles, his desired destination his singular focus. What feels like an hour passes before he sees anything he knows. A familiar run down gas station, closed for the day. A payphone out front near the gas pumps and the busted heaps of cars left the rot. Dean presses on, gripping the wheel tighter as he pushes Baby to go faster.

A few miles later, Dean pulls the Impala off the side of the road. Cutting the engine, he fiddles with the keys for a second, suddenly nervous, before shoving that feeling down and getting out of the car. He shuts the door, walking across the road towards a line of trees. It’s not long before he breaks through into a clearing. 

He imagines this place probably looks different now, back on Earth. The place looks like a bomb went off. Trees blown out of the ground, their roots sticking up in odd angles. They lay broken and shattered in a perfect circle, surrounding a singular point in the middle of the clearing. A wooden cross still stands in the middle of the grass.

“I don’t know how this works now, but if you could hear me before, the reception has to be way better from up here.” Dean says, yelling out into the field surrounding him.

There’s no sound. No voice. Nothing changes. Dean rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, Cas, don’t leave me hanging here.”

Bobby had told him time moved differently here, but it feels like Dean stands there for an eternity. Doubt starts to creep in, like a tingle at the back of his neck. He crushes it down, standing as still as possible as he waits.

“Hello Dean.”

The voice and the sound of wings hits him at the same time. Dean wheels around, turning to see Castiel standing behind him. Dean half expects him to be right on top of him, personal space be damned, just like always. Instead, Castiel stands a few feet away. Their eyes meet, but Castiel doesn’t hold his gaze. His eyes dart away, his hands hidden in the pockets of his trench coat.

“Cas! You’re here.”

“You did call.”

Dean laughs, “Well yeah, but I mean… I didn’t think —“

He pushes away the thoughts that haunted him all those years since Dean, Sam, and Jack took down Chuck. That Castiel was still stuck in the Empty, forever lost and alone. When Jack brought everyone back, Castiel had been noticeably missing. Dean hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask Jack the question. To find out whether it was because Jack couldn’t reach Castiel in the Empty or if Castiel never came back because he didn’t want to.

“Bobby says you and Jack did all of this,” Dean says gesturing around at the clearing.

A small smiles crosses Castiel’s features, “Heaven is what it should be.”

“It’s great, Cas. What you and the kid did here. I mean, you finally got what you wanted, what you tried to do all those years. You fixed Heaven.” 

Castiel still isn’t looking at him, at least not directly. He steals glances as Dean talks. Dean can’t take his eyes off of him. He feels almost giddy.

“I’m just so damn happy to see you, man.”

Castiel hasn’t moved, but his eyes find Dean’s, “You are?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, taken aback as he takes a few steps closer to Castiel, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Castiel looks away again. Dean moves forward, leaving less than a foot between them, “Cas?”

“I thought —“ Castiel says, stopping himself before starting again, “I wasn’t sure how you would react.”

“React?”

“To what I said. The last time I saw you.”

Dean stares at him. Castiel seems to steel himself, finally holding Dean’s gaze like he used to. Almost like a challenge. When Dean starts laughing, Castiel is visibly irritated. 

“I fail to see what is so funny.”

“You ghosted me because you were worried I’d what? Be mad at you for saying you loved me?”

“Dean —“

“You could have at least popped down to tell us you were okay.”

“I wanted to.”

Dean can’t help the glare, “Then why, Cas? I prayed to you.”

“I know —“

“So many times. And you —“

“I wanted you to live your life,” Castiel says, raising his voice to stop Dean, “To live a life. The life you wanted. You gave so much Dean. You deserved the chance to live life on your own terms.”

“I did.” Dean says, “But what makes you think that wouldn’t have included you too?”

Castiel stares as Dean shakes his head ruefully. 

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough. Before. I —“ Dean says, taking a breath before reaching out to take Castiel’s hand. The angel doesn’t flinch away like Dean half expects him to, “I couldn’t get the words out. You know me. How I am. It never seemed to be the right time or I never thought you could feel… And then you — you said all those things. Things I didn’t think anyone…”

Dean has to stop, his throat tightening. Castiel moves in close to him, squeezing his hand. Dean takes a breath, clearing his throat before he tries again.

“I love you too, Cas.” Dean says, “I have for… Hell, I don’t even know how long, but I did. I do.”

Castiel looks at him in that way that always made Dean uncomfortable. Like he could raise mountains or move whole planets. For the first time, it doesn’t make Dean anxious because, for the first time, he knows what it is. It’s love. Dean leans forward, Castiel meeting him halfway as their foreheads touch. Dean rests there, eyes closed as he wraps his arms around Castiel. Minutes or hours pass, Dean doesn’t know or care how long they stand like that, but he feels the loss when Castiel pulls away, even though he keeps his arms around Dean. He tilts his head like he’s listening to something.

“Cas?”

“It’s almost time.”

Dean knows what he means without having to ask. Still, he hesitates to let Castiel go. Castiel smiles at him, seeming to understand.

“We have time, Dean. As much as we need.”

“You’re not going to disappear on me?”

“I will always come when you call.” Castiel says, “But, I do have one question before you go.”

“What’s that?”

Castiel looks around, “Why this place?”

“It’s the place we first met.” Dean says with a shrug, “Or the closest thing I want to get to it.”

Castiel smiles as he untangles himself from Dean, squeezing his hands before letting go completely. 

“See ya soon, Cas.”

The angel disappears as Dean makes his way back to the Impala. He tears off further down the road. This time, he doesn’t have a clear destination in mind, but something pulls him along the twists and turns as he drives. He keeps going and doesn’t stop until he reaches a bridge. The Impala rumbles to a stop close to the middle. Dean cuts the engine and gets out. He walks towards the railing, running his hands along the cool metal. He thinks about the family he has waiting for him. The friends he hasn’t seen in years and all the time they have now to catch up. To be together. He thinks about his angel who will only ever be a thought away. It’s almost perfect. 

Dean looks out at the river below him, flowing out of sight among the forest, and smiles, “Hey Sammy.”

“Dean.”

He turns to see his little brother, looking younger than the last time he saw him. Dean’s smile widens as he walks toward Sam, chuckling as he pulls him into a hug. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I came up with in what turned out to be less than a week (I decided to do this on Sunday night). I think it works better, but that's my own personal opinion. There were things about the finale I loved. There were a lot I hated. To be fair, endings are hard and there was never a version where everyone was going to be happy. 
> 
> I feel like this uses a lot of what they gave us in the finale, even if some of it's tweaked around a bit. By my count, I conservatively estimate this takes at least 20 people out of the cast that appeared in the real finale (all the extras from Pie Fest, a few of the masked bad guys, random Jenny from the block/S1, and both versions of Sam's son). I figure that buys Castiel time in the finale. I argue strongly that Eileen should be there too and the above can easily be changed to include her, but I'd hate to press them too hard. Minus 20 people to get one angel I figured was asking a lot on it's own. Please read intense sarcasm here.
> 
> There's no kiss between Dean and Cas. Hell, they could cut the forehead touch out if that stressed whoever out too much. You can break it down to just a holding hands, come at me.
> 
> When you look at this, it's still mostly about the brothers, which seemed to be a big deal. That said, it doesn't ignore the found family they built.
> 
> Dean dies, but he's not afraid and he at least got to enjoy his life before he goes. As much as this is about found family, I tried to make it about everyone choosing their lives too. Hopefully that comes through.
> 
> If they can photoshop pictures for "What Is and What Should Never Be" back in Season 2, they can do it here too. And hey, feel free to input one of your three or four montages, SPN, you are welcome.
> 
> I love Supernatural and I always will. I love the cast and the crew (if not necessarily TPTB or some of the writers) and if they were truly happy with the ending, then that's fine. Everyone is entitled to feel how they feel. This is mostly my exorcising of some bullshit that never, in my opinion, should have happened.


End file.
